


From The Journal of Bucky Barnes, entry 1

by thekitgregoryblog



Series: From the Journal of Bucky Barnes [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Fluff, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Stucky - Freeform, steve too probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekitgregoryblog/pseuds/thekitgregoryblog
Summary: Collection of entries taken from the journal of one James Buchanan Barnes





	

read somewhere once that if you couldn’t sleep, you should write down whatever’s on your mind and keep it in a journal. Something about it being therapeutic, I guess. I’ve never really been good at writing but, hey, I’ll try anything once. Even if it’s just for fuck’s sake. 

I’ve been up for four hours now, just staring at the ceiling and trying not to wake you as I shift my weight around on that tiny mattress that by some miracle fits both of us. Reminds me of the times you would get so cold that you’d stuff yourself into my side and stick your cold hands under my shirt for warmth in those winter’s after your ma died. A little heat leech you were but I didn’t care, as long as it got you to stop shivering for the night. Nowadays it’s usually me leaning towards you and trying to get warm, since you turned into a fucking goddamn furnace and I still can’t seem to get that feeling of ice out of my veins. I wonder if you ever feel it too, that feeling of being trapped inside a freezer with no way out. Maybe it’s just me. It’s probably better that way. 

~~I’m afraid to fall asleep~~.

~~ It took me two whole minutes to build up the courage to write that down. My hand is still shaking. ~~

~~ Fuck fuck fuck fuck ~~

Everyone thinks that the nightmares are about what happened to me when I was under Hydra’s control, and they’re not wrong. It’s just not the whole truth. I fall asleep knowing that I’m going to dream about all of the awful things I did, all of the things that I can never take back, and it’s enough to make me sick to my stomach. But if they were only that, I’d force myself to fight through it because it isn’t anything that I don’t already think about when I’m awake.

~~ The part that scares me ~~

~~ Steve, I just ~~

~~I can’t fucking write this I can’t I can’t~~

I can’t lose you. I can’t bear the thought of going to sleep when I know that in each and every fucking nightmare you’ll be ripped away from me. God, it’s like some kind of unknown torture they implanted in my brain so that even if I could somehow forget everything they taught me, I would still be haunted by dreams of losing you. I know that we spit out all the crap about your soul matching mine and how we could never really lose each other if we’re the same inside, but when it comes down to it, that’s all bullshit. 

Steve,  if there was no you, there would be no me. If you left the face of this earth, I would crumble into dust and endlessly scatter across the face of this planet in the hope that somehow, in someway, I would find you again. Without you, I wouldn’t just die, I would fall headfirst into oblivion. I wouldn’t just fade away, I would explode. Because our love isn’t a bandage type of love, the one that you can slap on and peel of whenever things are finished. No, our love is industrial steel, slicing through ice and bullies and everything that has tried to pull us apart. It’s more durable that the vibranium of your shield or even my arm, and things that powerful aren’t always in our control. You see, if you were to leave me, that love is strong enough to turn against me and make me pay in ways I can’t even imagine. No torture chamber or terrifying serum would be able to compare to the ways it would rip me apart, picking away at me piece by piece until all that would be left is my heart, still triumphantly beating until the very end of the line for you. 

I’m looking over at you right now, as creepy as that sounds, and I can’t help but be scared at the thought of how much you mean to me. How I’m scared that even with all of your strength and fire and that goddamn stubbornness to do what you know is right, something will come along to try and snuff the Brooklyn right out of you. That you’ll finally realize how pure and too good for this world you are, and then look at me with the disgust I rightfully deserve after everything I’ve done. After everything I’ve put you through. And, Stevie, if I could take everything back for just one more night huddled together under that ratted old quilt back in 1939, I would. I would erase every single fucking thing just so that those Brooklyn nights could live just a little longer. So that those two innocent, scrappy young boys had a goddamn chance in this world that so hell bent on turning every diamond into dust. 

Because you, Steve, are the brightest diamond I’ve ever seen. 

  
And you deserve so much better than a pile of dust like me.


End file.
